All of Actuality
by CosmicJourney
Summary: Iris is struggling in the wake of Barry's imprisonment. The Speed Force is always watching out for its favorite children, even when it can do nothing to change their fate- Iris is no exception.


It's the day after Barry's sentencing and Iris is sitting alone on a threadbare couch in an achingly familiar house. It's the only home left untainted for either of them- BarryandIris- and so she clings to the loose threads beneath her hands and stares at the unlit fireplace and waits.

She's waiting for- something. Waiting to wake up, maybe, in her husband's arms in an apartment that is their own. Waiting for a metahuman alert, a distraction to drag her away from all this. Waiting for the tears to stop sliding down her cheeks because now that she's noticed them she is profoundly annoyed.

The annoyance is, suddenly, cataclysmically, too much- she's wrecked and she's numb and she can't be strong for him, not now, not when she's alone and all she wants is to wrap herself in his arms and feel safe. So Iris breaks to pieces on that couch, the same one she held him on all those years ago on the night his mother died. She cries and she screams at the injustice of it all, at the aching loneliness that has somehow already gouged its claws into her chest. And yet she's beyond grateful that no one else is home, that no one else must bear witness to a promise broken a day after it was made.

When finally Iris manages to calm down she's curled in the corner of the couch, knees pulled up to her chest and arms hugging herself desperately. The numbness is back and it's suffocating at the same time that it is a blessed relief and she tips her head forward to rest on her arms if only to escape the dizzying whirlwind of her not-feelings. She breathes deeply and she tries to process.

These are the facts: Barry is gone. Barry is in prison for a crime he didn't commit. Barry is far stronger than anyone has any right to be but he's _human_ , dammit, and his strength isn't insurmountable. Barry won't use his speed to break out of prison because he doesn't want to run away anymore. The DeVoes are still at large. Iris is still team leader. Iris is still standing.

She bites her lip to hold back what she knows would start out a wail of despair but would transform into a furious snarl halfway out her chest. She breathes and she shakes and she tries to hold herself together and is failing when she feels a cold, wet little touch on her arm.

Iris looks up, righteously angry enough to want to destroy whatever is occupying the same space as her. But she stops short of lashing out because sitting beside her on the couch, tail wrapped daintily around its paws, is a black fox.

The fox tilts its head, sharp amber eyes never leaving hers. Iris is- she's not startled, not really, because the fox is purring with power, deafening with it, the same frequency that resides in Barry's chest. Iris is angry all over again, because- "You're the Speed Force, aren't you?"

The fox doesn't answer. Iris knows she must look a mess, her face tear-stained, hair rumpled, and eyes red- but she _feels_ beyond powerful in her spite. "You could have stopped this. You're- you're Everything, aren't you? Or a god of everything, at least? Couldn't you have done something to help him?"

Iris remembers vividly the time she personally retrieved Barry from the Speed Force, when getting his speed back after Zoom had stolen it very nearly led to him being lost forever. Iris had felt it then, a thrumming beat of love throughout the fabric of time and space, a silent promise of protective watchfulness for the Speed Force's favorite child. And yet- Barry is gone and it's impermanent, it has to be, but it feels more hopeless than any time before.

The grizzled silvery fur framing the fox's eyes and frosting its back gleams with an intrinsic light. The fox speaks, finally, in a deafening whisper. _In all of Actuality there exist two types of Things. There are Things Shaped Like You, and Things Shaped Unlike You. If all of Actuality is splintered, as it is wont to do, then you will come across Things like me- Things Which Are You, But Are Shaped Unlike You._

The fox is speaking gently and Iris gets the distinct feeling that it is trying its best to help her understand something, to guide her kindly towards a simple conclusion. But her head is pounding and she's staring at the little animal with watering eyes that can't focus- and she's still angry, perhaps even more so now. "You're saying you're me? Or that I'm you?"

 _Yes_ , the Iris-fox says. _If you were me you'd be a fox. If I were you I'd be an Iris. We are the same in the eyes of Actuality when they are broken, as they usually are._

Iris doesn't understand, not even a little bit, and she shakes her head to try and clear it. When she looks at the fox again, for the slightest moment it is shaped like her- but then it is not. "I don't- I don't care about all this," that's not true, this is weird as hell and she's very intrigued but she's a bit preoccupied at the moment. "Why did this happen to us? Why do these things keep happening us?"

 _I've met many times with the Thing Which Is Barry, But Is Shaped Unlike Barry,_ the Iris-fox says as though it doesn't hear her. _It is a fluctuating Thing. It is reluctant to find its Shape- I have known it as a wolf, a falcon, a serval, several different dogs- always golden_.

"I _don't care_!" Iris snarls, springing to her feet and turning away from the fox which has said nothing useful, which watches her impassively and empathetically.

 _It is not ready to settle for one Shape yet_ , the fox continues softly and slowly. _For most it is painful to not have a Shape- but the Thing Which Is Barry But Is Shaped Unlike Barry bears it. It is a Thing which will not choose a Shape until the time is right._

And Iris understands all at once and she is still angry- still so, so angry- but she _understands_. She turns to the fox, to the shattered piece of Actuality, but it is gone and Iris is alone again in the living room of her childhood home.

The air feels colder now, and Iris holds her arms in a grip much looser than before. Stillness drapes over everything- not oppressive, not numb, but dampening in a way that is startling once the echoing vibration of the fox's voice has faded in her ears.

Iris exhales shakily, and knows she will keep her promise until the end of time.


End file.
